Page 17

Running down his drive, he forced himself to moderate his pace. It was difficult, but he couldn’t afford to sprint as Daphne had done and end up too exhausted to continue. He had further to go than she’d had.

It took far too long to reach the third bend, but at last he saw it ahead of him. Putting on an extra burst of speed, he rounded the curve and slowed to a stop. Daphne had definitely said the third one, but he could see nothing unusual to indicate the struggle that must have happened there.

However, closer inspection revealed marks in the dirt beneath his feet that indicated more than passing footsteps. Something had happened in that spot, just as Daphne had claimed.

Hurrying to the trees on his left, he examined the greenery closest to the road. While he was far from an expert tracker, he had learned the basics from some of the older members of the mountain community, and he had often hunted large game through the trees on the mountain slope. It was easy to pick up the signs of the men he was pursuing—clearly they had made no effort to hide their passage.

He stepped past the tree line and paused. Should he be going to Thebarton first and gathering more men to accompany him? He only hesitated for a moment, though. Going into the town and searching for men would take far too much time. Who knew what harm might come to Rosalie in the meantime?

Daphne had said there were three men, and it was unlikely they were as well-trained with the sword as Dimitri. His closestneighbor on the mountain had been a retired weapons master, and Dimitri’s mother had done all his laundry and cooking.

He picked up the pace, not moving as fast through the trees as he had on the road but still making good time. He only slowed whenever he lost his quarry’s path, searching around each time until he found it again.

“Over here! Help!”

Dimitri tensed at the cry, spinning to stare into the trees. The voice had sounded a little odd, but the words had been clear. Whoever had taken Rosalie must have abducted others as well.

He tried to follow the voice, straining to hear any further calls or sounds of movement. An explosion of birds from a nearby tree made him startle, but he could see no sign of any people. Did he dare call out?

Just as he was about to risk it, he heard another cry.

“This way! We’re over here!”

The voice sounded the same, but it was coming from back in the direction of his original trail. He hurried after it. How had the abductors made it past him without him seeing or hearing anything?

“Just a bit further!” the voice called again, this time leading him south.

He dashed through the trees, ears and eyes alert, but he could see none of the signs that had been guiding him so far. He finally slowed, frustrated. The voice had sounded close, so he should have reached them by now. Something was off.

“Are you there?” he risked calling out. There was nothing but silence.

His lips tightened. He didn’t like to turn his back on someone in need, but he could see no sign of a fresh trail, and he had already lost valuable time. There was no way to follow a voice that had gone silent, and meanwhile he still had a clear path to follow in the other direction.

He retraced his steps until he saw evidence of the abductors’ movements again. With a last glance back at the quiet forest, he resumed his earlier path.

After some distance, he heard voices again. He slowed to a crawl. The voices were different this time—rather than one person calling out, it was the low murmur of an exchange. And the sounds were coming from in front of him—right where the trail was leading.

He had finally caught up with them, and he would be wise to approach with caution. Drawing his sword, he held it ready as he crept closer. The voices had fallen quiet, but he had locked their location in his mind.

He slipped behind a large bush, carefully looking around it into a clearing. The leaves obstructed his view, however, and he hadn’t located Rosalie when a voice spoke again, louder this time.

“Visitors are always welcome,” it drawled. “But we do prefer them to come in the front door. Won’t you join us?”

Dimitri froze. Were they talking to him?

“Come, come, don’t be shy!” the man added after the silence stretched on.

There was cold amusement in the tone, and Dimitri didn’t like the sound. But there was little point in lurking behind a bush if they knew he was there. Better to face the situation and see if he could brazen it out. He had his sword and his wits—and from the reaction of the few townsfolk he’d met, his position as owner of the manor gave him some standing in the region. He just hoped that was enough to master whatever situation he found in the clearing.

He slipped the blade back into its scabbard and strolled around the bush, forcing his face into impassive lines.

His first impression was of a small crowd of men—too many men. His fingers twitched toward the hilt of his sword, but hekept his arm at his side and his face calm. His one advantage was that they looked as unpleasantly surprised to see him as he was unpleasantly surprised at their number.

His eyes locked on a man standing slightly in front of the others. He was young—Dimitri’s age at a guess—but even so, Dimitri had the distinct impression he was their leader.

“You’re not welcome in my woods,” Dimitri told the man.

He used the same voice of command and authority that his mother had successfully deployed against his younger self. From his study of the manor’s deed, he didn’t really have any claim to this particular stretch of trees, but he was hoping these men wouldn’t know that.